


Alone In This World (Together)

by flipflop_diva



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Minor Injuries, Missing Scene, Natasha Romanov Needs a Hug, On the Run, POV Steve Rogers, Post-Civil War (Marvel), Protective Steve, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-04-06 03:50:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19054651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipflop_diva/pseuds/flipflop_diva
Summary: “We’re fugitives,” Steve said finally. “It might never get better.”“The world’s always going to need saving," Sam replied. "We’re still Avengers. No one can take that away from us.” Then, like they hadn't been having an entire conversation before, “So when do we leave?”“Once night falls.”Do we have any idea where she is?”“No.” Steve took a sip of his coffee. “But I know where she’ll be.”





	Alone In This World (Together)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Merfilly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/gifts).



Steve took another sip of the burning hot coffee in his hand as he felt someone sidle up next to him.

“I’m guessing T’Challa’s not into letting us stay here for a couple extra months, is he?”

Steve turned his head, his mouth curving into a smile at Sam’s infectious grin — a grin that should almost seem impossible considering what they were about to do and how they were about to live.

“Oh, I’m sure he’d let us stay longer if we asked.” Steve’s eyes slid sideways to the other occupants of the long, spacious room. In one corner, Shuri, T’Challa’s younger sister, stood deep in conversation with Wanda. T’Challa had already assured Steve that Shuri could help Wanda deal with the effects of the shock collar and the horrible way she had been treated during her stay at The Raft. In the other corner, T’Challa stood with Clint Barton and Scott Lang. T’Challa had also assured him that he was going to do everything he possibly could to make sure both men were able to return home to their families like they desired.

“I’m guessing asking him if we can stay is off the table then,” Sam said, in such a way that it made Steve chuckle.

“He’s already doing more than we have any right to expect,” Steve said. “We can’t compromise the safety of his people more than we already have. If anyone found out …”

“Yeah,” Sam said. He looked away from Steve and out the floor to ceiling windows that gave an impressive view of the Wakandan countryside. “I sure am going to miss this place when we’re staying at a zero-star motel, though.”

Steve hesitated for a second before speaking aloud what he had been thinking about all morning. He knew Sam wasn’t doing anything he didn’t want to do, but yet …

“You know you don’t have to come,” Steve said. “You could still go home. It’s not too late.”

Sam turned away from the windows to look at him. His face had turned serious, but his eyes were twinkling. “Yeah?” he said. “Go home and do what exactly?”

“See family, friends.” Steve shrugged. “Maybe go back to counseling some day.”

“Or sit alone in my apartment on house arrest and watch the world burn and not be able to do a thing about it?” Sam shook his head. “No way. Where you go, I go. Pretty much knew that was a thing since the first time you lapped me going a zillion miles an hour. Haven’t regretted it since.”

“Sam, I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

They stared at each other, neither of them looking away.

“We’re fugitives,” Steve said finally. “It might never get better.”

“The world’s always going to need saving. We’re still Avengers. No one can take that away from us.”

“You don’t have to be the one to save it. There will be other Avengers.”

“You don’t have to be the one either,” Sam said, and they were still staring at each other, daring the other to look away. Of course, Sam was right, he didn’t have to save the world, but what else was he going to do? He was never going to watch the world fall apart and not try to save it, consequences be damned. How could he blame Sam for wanting to do the same thing?

His acceptance of the situation must have shown in his face.

“So when do we leave?” Sam asked, as if they hadn’t just had the rest of the conversation.

“Once night falls.”

Sam nodded, and then quietly, “Do we have any idea where she is?”

“No.” Steve took another sip of his coffee. “But I know where she’ll be.”

•••

_Natasha pulled back from their hug, her arms still lingering around his neck for a moment, before she dropped an arm, stuck her hand in her pocket and pulled out something that Steve felt her press into his hand._

_“In case things go south,” she started._

_“You expect things to go south?”_

_“No.” But he recognized the slight twitch of her mouth as she said it, and he knew she wasn’t telling him the entire truth._

_“Nat,” he said softly as she finally dropped her other arm from around his neck and stepped back, almost like she was purposely putting distance between them, “don’t sign them.”_

_“You know I have to.”_

_“You don’t have to.”_

_“Steve.” She lifted her eyes to meet his. The look in them was one he didn’t remember seeing before. Imploring. Almost pleading. “I can’t not do this.”_

_He wanted to argue with her, to tell her she could just stay with him, with Sam. The three of them together, like it had been for the past couple years. He could remind her how good that was, how happy they had all been. But she was still staring at him with that look in her eyes, and he knew in his heart he couldn’t argue with her no matter how much he wanted to. Because he did get it. The things she never said. Would never say._

_It was different for him. He knew that. The world would forgive him if he never signed the Accords. The world would still admire him, would still want him back the next time the great threat appeared on their planet._

_The world didn’t offer second chances to someone like her, though — someone who used to be one of the most wanted assassins in the world. Not when that world could read a list on the internet of horrible things she had done, going back to when she was a child._

_“I know you can’t not sign it,” he said. “Just … be careful, Nat.”_

_“I’m always careful.” She pressed whatever was in her hand harder into his palm. “It’s you that needs to be careful.”_

_She slipped her hand out of his, leaving the item in his hand. He glanced down. A thin white strip of paper._

_“If you need me,” she said, and gave a hint of a nod, her eyes flashing to his hand. “Just go there.”_

_“How will you …?”_

_“I always know,” she interrupted. She smiled then, softly. “Don’t do anything stupid.”_

_“You know I can’t make that kind of promise.”_

_She made a noise, somewhere between a chuckle and snort. “Bye, Steve.”_

_“Bye, Nat.”_

•••

Natasha’s safehouse was an old cabin, buried deep in the woods, tucked against mountains and hidden by towering trees. If Steve and Sam hadn’t known what they were looking for, they never would have found it.

The cabin itself looked like it hadn’t seen human life in at least ten years. The deck was caving in, the front railings were covered with dirt and leaves and grime, and Steve had to slam his shoulder against the door a few times to get it to budge, even after he twisted the key in the lock and heard the telltale click.

Inside wasn’t too much better. There was a layer of dust over everything, and the few blankets that were there had moth holes the size of their fists in multiple places. But after a more thorough search, they found an entrance to a hidden room underneath the cabin. Inside that were cupboards and a refrigerator stocked with food, plus piles of freshly laundered towels and blankets and cleaning solutions.

“She never fails to surprise me,” Sam said, as he opened a small closet and pulled out a handful of men’s white t-shirts. He tossed a few to Steve. “Even has our sizes right.”

The cabin — hidden underground room aside — was small. A kitchen that was barely big enough to hold two people at the same time, a living room containing a couch and a small round table with three chairs, and a bedroom that was mostly a king-sized bed, a small dresser and a tiny closet that they would be lucky to cram five shirts in.

In a small cardboard box underneath the bed, Steve found something else. Two old-fashioned flip phones. One black and one red.

“Let me guess,” Sam said, when Steve held them up. “The red one calls you.”

Steve flipped opened the phone and checked the call log. Sure enough, the one number programmed inside was the burner phone tucked inside his jeans.

“So we call the black one if we don’t hear from her soon?” Sam said.

“She’ll come,” Steve said, but he placed the black flip phone on the small dresser anyway, putting the red one back in its box and slipping it back under the bed.

•••

Steve wasn’t sure at first what woke him. But then came the crash.

He was out of bed in an instant, racing the few steps from the bedroom to the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway, heart in his throat, and stared at the scene in front of him.

Sam stood by the stove, holding a now empty pan. Scrambled eggs sprinkled the floor. Next to Sam, perched on the counter like she belonged there, sat a very familiar redhead.

She turned to Steve as took a step into the room.

“Hello, soldier,” she said.

“Nat,” he barely managed to breathe. “What happened?”

She looked like hell. Her right arm was in a makeshift sling — it looked like she had used some torn up bed sheets that had been dragged in mud. But it was her face that was more worrisome. She looked like someone had used her for punching practice. Her left eye was practically swollen shut, and blood had dried underneath it and all around her nose. Her lip was split in the left corner, and he could see blood matted in her hair.

“I’m okay,” she said.

“I’m pretty sure you’re not,” Steve replied.

“I’m okay enough to scare Sam.” She tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace.

“That is true,” Sam said. He bent down to scoop up the eggs that had fallen, but he caught Steve’s eye as he did so, and Steve saw the worry across his face match how he felt.

Steve stepped across the tiny kitchen to Natasha, putting his hands on her waist and lifting her off the counter. She wobbled just slightly when he put her on the ground, and he tightened his hold to keep her from falling.

“At least let me patch you up while Sam remakes breakfast,” Steve said gently.

“It’s the least you can do for ruining my perfect eggs,” Sam told her.

Natasha rolled her good eye. “Fine,” she said, but Steve noticed she let him keep hold of her as they headed to the tiny bathroom off the bedroom.

•••

“I was being stupid,” Natasha said finally. She had let Steve wash all the blood off her face and her neck and out of her hair, and he was carefully stitching up the wound on her scalp. It wasn’t deep enough to truly worry him, but he also wasn’t comfortable with just using a bandage.

“You’re never stupid, Nat.”

“I didn’t realize anyone had followed me.” She shrugged her uninjured shoulder. “I was being stupid. I didn’t notice them until it was too late.”

“Do you know who they were?”

“Believe it or not, a lot of people want me dead. And when you’re not an Avenger anymore, it seems they’re lining up for their chance.”

“Natasha …”

“I handled it.”

Steve knew what that meant. “Are you sure?” he said, even though he knew she was.

“I’m okay,” she said. “No one followed me here. I made sure.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I made my choice, Steve.”

“But if I hadn’t gone after Bucky …”

Natasha reached out with her uninjured hand, wrapped her fingers around his wrist and squeezed lightly. “I made my choice,” she repeated. “I would do the same thing again.”

Steve nodded, but he couldn’t help the guilt that swirled inside him.

•••

They spent the day lying next to each other on the couch.

“Just like old times,” Natasha said. “Except without Steve’s corny old movies that he used to force us to watch.”

“They are not corny. They are classics. And there are only so many times someone can watch Legally Blonde.” He stared at her pointedly, but she just smirked at him. And then she yawned. 

Both Sam and Steve glanced at her. Steve had the feeling she was in much more pain than she was ever going to admit to the both of them. He also had the feeling she was more concerned about whatever had happened to her than she was letting on.

“Maybe we should turn in early,” Steve suggested. It was barely after sundown, but he had the feeling they could all use the rest, especially since they were going to have to plan their next destination sooner rather than later. It had been hard for him to sleep with all his friends scattered across the globe. But now at least he knew where everyone was — even if none of this was an ideal situation and no one was completely okay.

“I’ll take the couch,” Natasha said.

Sam and Steve both shook their heads.

“Absolutely not,” Steve said.

“That bed is giant,” Sam said. “And you’re very small.”

“I can sleep on a couch,” Natasha said.

“Of course you can,” Sam told her. “Doesn’t mean we’re going to let you.”

Natasha glared at him, and then Steve in turn, as if that was going to make them give in. But it didn’t, and ten minutes later, she crawled into bed between the two men.

“If I kick you,” she told them, “don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

•••

Five days in and they were running low on supplies. 

“We’re going to need to get some food soon unless we want to eat peanut butter sandwiches for three meals straight,” Sam told them as he gave both Steve and Natasha two pieces of toast and peanut butter for breakfast. Even the coffee was running low.

Town, Steve and Sam had come to find out, was five miles down a narrow, sharply twisting road. A bigger town, which seemed safer to go out in, was eight more miles after that. But they couldn’t very well fly their Wakandan jet down to the local grocery store, and Natasha had come on foot as well.

“Let’s just take our chances with the close town,” Natasha said. Through what Steve could only imagine was some complicated form of magic, she had managed to apply her makeup in such a way that you could barely tell she had been severely beaten. If he looked closely, he could see the bruises beneath her eye, and if he watched her carefully, he could tell she barely used her injured arm, even when she didn’t have it in the sling, but for people passing her on the street, no one would probably ever be the wiser.

“I’ll go,” Sam said immediately.

“I’ll go with you,” Steve said.

“No.” Natasha shook her head. “You’re too recognizable. I’ll go.”

“That’s not a good idea,” Steve said.

“Sam shouldn’t go alone.”

“Sam is a big boy.”

“None of us should be going out alone,” Natasha argued. “Besides I need to get some personal items.”

“I’ve bought tampons before, Nat,” Sam told her. She scowled. “That’s not what I need, and I’m going with you.”

In the end, Natasha won the round. She was right in that they really did need two people to go, just for the sole purpose of being able to carry enough back that they didn’t have to venture out again for at least another week. And by then, they would hopefully be well on their way to the next location.

And she was also right in that Steve, no matter how he disguised himself, was much too recognizable. His picture was still on every news broadcast and every corner newspaper. Not to mention that there was barely anyone anywhere who didn’t know what Captain America looked like. Natasha had always been better able to blend in when she needed to.

She got dressed in a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, her red hair stuffed under the hood. She had at least agreed that only Sam would go inside the store, and she would wait for him outside. The less people she actually talked to, the better the chance that no one would recognize her.

Sam and Natasha set off just a little before noon, Steve watching them go, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. He’d woken up that morning with a bad feeling in his gut, but he had chalked it up to an ever growing sensation that they needed to move on. Staying in motion seemed a safer path to follow than to stay in one place too long. T’Challa had given them a list of people they could trust, and Natasha had a collection of safehouses across the world. It would be months before they would even have to think about repeating any cities they had previously stayed in.

Steve decided to stay busy while the two of them were gone. He found some cleaning supplies downstairs in the hidden room and set to work, dusting every surface, cleaning every appliance in the kitchen (including the refrigerator and the oven) and even changing the sheets on the bed and the towels in the bathroom. When he was done, he scrounged up some blank white paper he had stuffed in the small bag he had taken with him from Wakanda, sat on the small couch out in the main room and started to sketch his two friends.

He was deep in concentration, working on perfecting the strands of hair that often times fell across Natasha’s eyes, when the burner phone in his pocket buzzed so loudly he almost jumped out of his skin.

Heart pounding wildly, he answered the number he had programmed in during what felt like another lifetime ago but was in reality less than a week.

“Sam?” 

“Outside! Now!”

The panic in Sam’s voice had Steve barreling through the front door and racing up the dirt path to the narrow twisting road. Halfway there, he saw them — Sam, with his arm around Natasha, holding her upright, hurrying toward Steve as fast as he could.

Steve sped up even more. As he got closer, he could see Natasha’s eyes were only half open and Sam was more dragging her than she was walking.

He didn’t stop to ask what happened; he just reached out, scooped Natasha into his arms and cradled her against his chest.

“I’m okay,” she slurred into his shirt, but she didn’t try to get him to put her down, and that was the most telltale sign of all.

“Were you followed?” Steve asked Sam as he laid Natasha down across the bed a few minutes later. Her eyes had closed completely as they’d entered the cabin, and she seemed barely conscious.

“No.” Sam shook his head, panting a little. “Three men. They grabbed her when I was in the store. She took care of two of them before I even got out there. The third put up a fight.” He stopped to point to a bruise forming on his cheek that Steve hadn’t noticed before, all his attention being on Natasha. “But not for long.”

Steve went back to studying Natasha. She seemed to be breathing normally, and he couldn’t see any blood, but her eyes were still closed and she seemed limp.

“I think they drugged her,” Sam said, as if reading his thoughts. “She told me she felt a prick in her neck when they first attacked her. And then halfway up the road, she collapsed against me. I got her back as fast as I could.”

“We have to get out of here. If people know where she is …”

“Where are we going to go?”

“Anywhere but here.”

•••

The first friend of T’Challa’s on the list he had given Steve gave them keys to an old car and directions to a two-bedroom beach house just steps from the Atlantic Ocean. He also gave them groceries and a few extra needed supplies.

Natasha woke up just as Steve brought the jet down for landing.

“I’m sorry,” Steve heard her whisper to Sam, who shook his head at her and told her she had nothing to be sorry for. But Steve noticed Natasha was awfully quiet for the rest of the day. He thought maybe she was still drowsy and a little out of it from the drugs, but when she got up from their dinner of spaghetti and meatballs that Sam had made, her plate untouched, and went to sit outside on the deck alone, Steve knew it was more than that. 

He finished dinner and helped Sam do the dishes before following after her. She didn’t say a word as he sat down in a lounge chair beside her.

“You okay?” he finally asked her.

“Second time in less than a week. I’m losing my touch.”

“Or more people are after you than we originally thought.”

“I’m not safe to be around.”

“And you think Sam and I are?”

Natasha fixed him with a stare. She looked like she was thinking hard about something. “People don’t want you the way they want me,” she said.

“We are going to do everything we can to protect you.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to protect me.”

“Nat …”

“If something happens to you or Sam …”

“Hey.” Steve interrupted her mid-sentence. “We’re all in this together.”

“I’m a liability.”

“We’re all liabilities.”

“This is all my fault.”

“None of this is your fault. I went after Bucky, remember? You were just trying to protect all of us.”

“Great job I did at that.” Natasha scoffed. “I almost got Sam killed today.”

“You didn’t get Sam almost anything today.”

Natasha didn’t answer. She just looked away from Steve and stared out at the ocean. But Steve saw the way she set her jaw, and he knew what that meant.

•••

“She’s going to run,” Steve whispered to Sam. It was dark in the kitchen of the beach house, the only light the soft glow of the moon through the window. It was nearly midnight. Natasha had disappeared to bed hours ago, claiming she was tired from everything that happened, but Steve knew better. 

“She’s going to what now?” Sam said. They spoke in low, hushed voices, though they didn’t really need to. The crashing of the ocean waves just beyond their beach house drowned out the sound of most anything else.

“She thinks she’s putting us in danger.”

“We’re already in danger.”

“I told her that.”

“Doesn’t she know we can protect her if she lets us?”

“I don’t think she wants us to protect her.” Steve had been thinking about it for a while, and he understood. He wasn’t one to easily accept help either, if there was a way around it. He was supposed to save people, not the other way around. He didn’t blame her for thinking that way, too.

“So, then, Captain, what’s the plan? I assume you have a plan.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, and he laughed despite himself. “I have a plan.”

•••

She was insanely quiet. He had to give her credit for that. Even though he knew she was, it still impressed him that she could slip out of a window that was above her head without making a single sound. No unintentional tap on the glass. No skidding on the side of the beach house. Nothing.

He waited till she landed, also without a sound, on the deck before speaking.

“Going somewhere?”

It was rare that Natasha was surprised. Steve had never managed to shock her at anything before, but this time, her mouth opened and she took a step backward, her eyes widening just so.

She recovered quickly though.

“No,” she said.

“Just going for a stroll then?” Steve said. “The front door is too hard to use?”

“It squeaks.”

“Right, and you wouldn’t want to wake Sam and me up.”

Natasha sighed. “Steve.”

“We’re not going to just let you leave. You know that right?”

Natasha shook her head. “You don’t understand,” she said.

“We understand everything, Nat. We’re all fugitives.”

“People don’t want to _kill_ you.” She emphasized the word as strongly as she could. “They maybe want to throw you back in The Raft or make an example of you, but they don’t want to _kill_ you. You didn’t …”

He stopped her right there, reached out and placed his fingers against her lips. He knew where this was going, the same place it always went when she thought she needed to convince them of why it was better for her to be the bait in a mission or the decoy or the plant or the what have you.

“You didn’t either,” he told her. “You didn’t have a choice. You never had a choice.”

“I did a lot of stuff, Steve. I hurt a lot of people.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to the people who want me dead.” She reached out, grabbed his hands. “They will come after me,” she told him, “and they won’t stop. And if something happens to you or Sam …”

“It won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“We’ll take that chance.”

“What if I don’t want you to take that chance?”

Another voice answered. “That’s not up to you.” Natasha and Steve both turned. Sam was standing there, hands stuffed in his pockets. “Besides,” he said, “this on the run gig is a lot more fun with the three of us. Reminds me of old times.”

Natasha sucked in a mouthful of air. Steve could see her almost debating with herself. He knew she still wanted to run, still wanted to protect them, but he had a feeling she knew that if she did, they would come after her, and he also knew that if she unintentionally led them into danger that way that she would never forgive herself.

And that, apparently, was worse than the alternative, because she blew out the mouthful of air she had been holding, her red curls bouncing slightly as she did so, her lips curving up into a smirk. “I hate you both.”

“We know,” Sam told her. “We wouldn’t have it any other way.”

•••

Sam went into town alone two days later and came back unharmed with groceries and a bag full of the personal items Natasha had wanted to get that last time they attempted to go shopping. She disappeared into the bathroom and came out an hour later, her long red curls gone, replaced by an almost white bob. She was still beautiful, but she was definitely more ordinary.

“I’m going to miss the red,” Steve told her that night. The three of them had walked down to the beach and were sitting side by side in the sand.

“I miss your clean shaven look,” she responded, reaching up to run her fingers through the beginnings of a scraggly beard. She turned her head to Sam. “You look the same.”

“You don’t have to sound so disgusted by that.”

Natasha laughed. “Yeah,” she said. “You’re just hideous.”

“Red haired you was a lot nicer.”

She laughed again. But a moment later she was serious. “They’re going to find me — us — again.”

“We know,” Steve answered.

“They were always going to find us,” Sam said. “But we’re going to do what we have to do anyway.”

“What if it never gets any better?” Natasha turned to look at Steve and then at Sam.

“You mean what if we’re fugitives forever?” Steve said. “Then we’re fugitives forever.”

Natasha looked thoughtful. “I didn’t ever think my life would turn out like this,” she said finally.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “Running from the law wasn’t really high up on my list of life goals either. But then neither was being Captain America’s BFF.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Natasha said, and then she poked him. “And who says you’re the BFF?”

“Steve says,” Sam told her.

“No, I don’t,” Steve said.

“See?” Natasha said. “This is what I mean. I didn’t ever think there would be a day when I’d be spending my life with you two goofballs.”

“But you’re super glad you are and all that, right?” Sam said.

Natasha looked for a second like she wanted to roll her eyes, but instead she grinned. “Yeah,” she said, “I guess so.”

•••

They fell asleep together on the queen-sized bed in one of the bedrooms, even though the beach house had two beds. Natasha lay in the middle, Steve and Sam on either side of her, their arms around her.

Steve woke up first, twisting his head to see the faint stirrings of light through the window across the room. He could hear the sounds of the waves outside, mingled with the soft breaths of the two people beside him.

He didn’t know what was coming next for any of them. He knew at some point they needed to check in on Wanda and Clint and Scott. He knew at some point they could try and fake Natasha’s death, get all the people who were after her off her trail. He also knew at some point the world was going to need them again — need the Avengers — and they weren’t going to say no. Maybe they would operate in the shadows for years, maybe forever, but they would be there.

He turned his head to stare at his two friends. Somewhere in the night, they had moved, so their foreheads were pressed together and Sam’s hand was wrapped around Natasha’s arm.

Steve smiled to himself as he studied them both, before reaching into the drawer of the table next to him and pulling out the stack of white paper he still had with him. This was far from the life he had dreamed about once upon a time, but if the only thing he had in life from here on out were Sam and Natasha, well, he decided, he would be fine. They would be fine.

And some day, it would all be okay again.


End file.
